The Mysterious Goth Kid
by tallshadow72
Summary: Detectives Amber Benson and Clyde Anson are investigating a serial killer when they find a boy who defies all logic. Is there a rational explanation for the kid's apparent ability to vanish into thin air? Or has this case turned paranormal?


**A/N: This is set shortly after _The Last Olympian. _****I do not own _Percy Jackson and the Olympians_...but I do own every member of this fictional police force.**

* * *

It was an unfortunate fact that serial killers came part and parcel with the job of homicide detective. And this case was shaping up to be another one. Detectives Amber Bennett and Clyde Anson had been called to the scene of yet another dead teenager with a kite string tied tightly around her neck. And just like the other bodies, she hadn't merely been dumped there; the disturbed earth nearby indicated that someone had dug up her body.

Cavall, one of the CSI techs, was frowning at the scene. "Have you noticed anything odd about the way the earth is disturbed?" he asked.

"You mean like the fact that someone is anonymously digging up serial killer victims and leaving them for us to find?" Clyde said sardonically.

"No," Cavall replied, shaking his head. "It's almost like…like she clawed her way out of the grave."

"Whoa," Amber objected, holding up her hands. "This job is morbid enough, let's not go claiming our victims are zombies."

"Yeah," Cavall agreed, swallowing nervously. "Yeah, I should probably lay off the horror movies." He pulled out his camera and started snapping crime scene photos.

* * *

Back at the precinct, Amber and Clyde looked over their case notes. "What do you think about the exhumations?" Clyde asked.

Amber snorted. "I think Cavall needs to stop watching The Walking Dead."

"That's not what I mean," Clyde objected, though he smiled. "Who's digging up the bodies? And why?"

"Probably the killer," Amber suggested. "Some sort of grotesque display."

"You think he goes to the trouble of digging graves just for show?" Clyde said doubtfully. "All the victims were strangled from behind. None of them would have seen their killer, but you think he goes in for theater?"

Amber shrugged. "Hey, I'm not a profiler. Top priority right now is to catch the guy, not to understand his fetishes."

"Yes, but what if he _isn't_ the one digging them up?" Clyde continued. "What if he's trying to hide the bodies, but someone else is digging them up as…as anonymous tips?"

"Why not just call in a tip?" Amber said skeptically. "And if our grave-undigger isn't the killer, how does he know where all the bodies are?"

"Don't know," Clyde mused, looking through the newest crime scene photos. "I just have a hunch. Something doesn't add up."

* * *

The next time Amber and Clyde were called to a Kite-String Killer scene, there was something different. Namely, a second corpse. The second corpse was a pale-skinned, dark-haired boy dressed in all black who looked about thirteen. There was no evidence of strangulation, nor of any other injury. There was no second grave and the body had not yet begun to decompose.

"Huh. What do you make of goth kid here?" Clyde asked.

"Don't know," Cavall replied. "I'd say maybe he surprised the killer, but if that were the case then I'd expect visible injuries.

"Well, a break in the pattern is good," Amber said. "Maybe the killer slipped up and we'll finally get a lead."

Clyde grimaced. "Or maybe he's a druggie with very bad timing. If I were strung out on something and I came across a dead body, I might have a heart attack."

Amber scowled. "Thanks for that, Mr. Positive."

Cavall shrugged. "The ME will tell us."

* * *

As it turned out, the ME could _not_ tell them Goth Kid's story. Goth Kid had disappeared en route to the morgue.

"Disappeared?" Amber repeated incredulously. "What do you mean, _disappeared_?"

"I mean we opened the car and his body bag was empty," replied Staunton, the ME.

"Did someone steal the body?" Clyde suggested.

"Driver and the techs all confirm that they put in two full body bags. All the car doors remained firmly shut in transit. When the car got here, they had one stiff and one empty bag."

Amber shook her head. "Impossible."

"Impossible or not, it's what happened," Staunton insisted. "I'll let you know what I find on the body that _did_ arrive." With that, he hung up.

Amber turned to Clyde. "What do we do now? Put out an APB on a dead kid?"

Clyde turned back to his computer. "Well, we've got photos. Time to browse through missing persons, see if we can at least give Goth Kid a name."

* * *

Three days later, Amber and Clyde were growing frustrated. The latest body had provided no new leads, and there were no missing children matching Goth Kid's description. Nor did they have any idea how a dead body had vanished from inside a sealed bag.

During her lunch break, Amber bought a cheeseburger to go and took it to a nearby park. She liked going to this park; it always seemed so full of life. She needed a place like this to remind herself that there was more to the world than death and murder.

Except today, her sanctuary had been breached. She could see…_something_ in a copse of nearby trees. She sighed, set aside her lunch and got up to investigate.

Amber's jaw dropped at the sight before her. Goth Kid was slumped against a tree, looking much worse for wear. He had several bruises and cuts on his arms, and a gash trickled blood down his cheek. There was a small pile of branches around him, and sort sort of glittering dust was visible underneath. Amber cautiously reached out to touch the boy. His skin was cold as ice, and yet…

"Non mi tocchi!" the boy cried, jerking away from her. Amber stared in shock as the boy looked around and seemed to regain his bearings.

"Hello," Amber said cautiously. "My name is Detective Amber Bennett. Do you speak English?"

The boy eyed her with suspicion, then spoke in a slight Italian accent. "Yes."

"Do you want me to call you an ambulance?" Amber suggested.

The boy looked down at his injured arms, then shook his head. "I'm fine. I've had worse."

_Like being dead?_ Amber thought to herself. Dear god, she wished there was a guidebook for scenarios like this. Unfortunately, she was just going to have to wing it. "Is it all right if I ask you a few questions?"

"The bones were already here, I swear," the boy insisted.

Amber stiffened. "What bones?"

The boy looked around at the branches, then back at Amber. "Nothing. Bad dream."

"I see," Amber replied, suspecting there was more to the story. But she'd need to gain some semblance of trust if he was going to tell her. "Look, I just want to talk. I promise you're not in trouble."

"I'm…not?" the boy asked warily, not sounding convinced.

"Not at the moment. Can you tell me your name?"

The boy narrowed his eyes. Amber got the impression he was calculating the risks of giving her an honest answer. "Nico di Angelo."

"Where were you three nights ago?"

"Three nights ago?" Nico frowned; it looked like he was having trouble remembering. "I, uh…" Suddenly, a strange expression came over his face. "I'm not sure. Why?"

"I'm asking the questions," Amber said firmly. "Do you live on the streets? Where are your parents?"

Nico stiffened. "Mamma is dead. And my father…it's complicated. But I don't live on the streets."

"So you live with your father?"

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

Nico's expression hardened. "I don't want to talk about it."

An idea began forming in Amber's head. "Nico, does your father ever…make you do things? Things involving dead bodies?"

Nico's eyes widened. "Δεν μπορώ να κάνω άλλο αγώνα τώρα," he muttered, springing to his feet and darting through the trees. Amber tried to follow him, but he seemed to have vanished into thin air.

* * *

Amber collapsed into the chair at her desk. "Well, I think I've just had the weirdest encounter of my career. And hopefully a lead."

Clyde spun his chair to face her. "What happened?"

"I found Goth Kid. Alive."

"_What?!_" Clyde exclaimed, eyes wide.

"Yeah, and he looked like he'd been in a fight. I'm not sure what happened three nights ago—he didn't seem to know either—but I think he may be our killer's son. He got really edgy when I asked about his father, and he straight-up panicked when I asked if his father ever made him do anything with dead bodies."

Clyde exhaled, looking thoughtful. "So you think he's the one burying and digging up the bodies, and he's too scared of his father to tip us off directly?"

"Just a theory. But whether I'm right or not, that kid's the best lead we've gotten so far."

Clyde sighed. "Pity we don't have a name for him."

Amber broke into a grin. "Oh, didn't I mention? He gave me his name. Nico di Angelo."

"Nico di Angelo," Clyde repeated, turning back to his computer. "Time to find out who you are."

* * *

Several fruitless hours later, Amber slumped in defeat and put her head in her hands. "This is useless. For all I know, he didn't even tell me his real name. He definitely had some reservations about giving it."

"Italian name," Clyde noted. "Did he seem Italian?"

"Had the accent," Amber confirmed. "And when I woke him up, he said something that sounded Italian. Although…"

"What?"

"Right before he ran off, he said something that didn't sound English _or_ Italian…"

"Polyglot, huh?"

"Apparently," Amber sighed.

"Well, we'll find him," Clyde said encouragingly. "You and me, we're a good team."

* * *

When Amber got home that night, she could swear she saw a shadow moving in her yard.

* * *

The next day's investigations proved frustratingly uninformative…until the end of the day, when Amber went to her car in the precinct's parking garage. She was just getting out her car keys when a voice behind her startled her into dropping the keys. "Who are you?"

Amber whirled around to see Nico di Angelo standing in the shadows by a pillar, giving her a suspicious look. "Geez, kid, don't sneak up on me," Amber scolded. "I might have gone for my gun."

Nico took a step forward into the light. He bore no trace of any injury. "Who are you? And why didn't you attack me?"

"Attack you?" Amber repeated, baffled. "Look, kid, I told you who I am. I'm Detective Amber Bennett. The question is who are _you_? There are only three Nico di Angelos in the entire state, and none of them are in your age range."

"You…looked me up?" Nico said hesitantly, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

"Yeah, and either you've given me a fake name or you're very good at living off the grid."

Nico snorted, looking oddly relieved. "Yeah, that sounds about right. If you really want to waste your time researching me, you might want to check with the Italian Embassy. If you want to catch your serial killer, I suggest you go to the pond in Ressel Park. Good luck." With that, Nico drew back into the shadows behind the pillar.

"Whoa, kid, wait!" Amber exclaimed. She tried to follow him, but stopped short when she reached the other side of the pillar. There was no one there.

* * *

They found another Kite-String victim at Ressel Pond. While the ME did his examination, Amber and Clyde watched a security guard go through the CCTV footage from the parking garage. Although the cameras clearly showed Nico talking to Amber, proving that he wasn't a hallucination, there was no sign of him entering or leaving.

"This is nuts," the guard finally said, bewildered. "Kid can't have just _teleported_ into the garage."

"Yeah, and he shouldn't have been able to teleport out of a body bag either," Clyde pointed out. "I'm starting to think Cavall was onto something. We're living in an honest-to-god ghost story."

At that moment, Staunton called with the ME's report, and Amber gratefully picked up her phone. "What have you got, Staunton?"

"Good news: this girl was a fighter. I found DNA under her fingernails. Better news: it's a match for a guy already in the system. You've got your killer."

"God almighty," Amber whispered. "Kid was right. Ressel Park had the answers."

"Who the _hell_ is he?" Clyde wondered.

"Soon as we arrest our guy, let's ask the Italian Embassy."

* * *

The arrest went smoothly. The conversation with the Italian Embassy, less so. They denied knowledge of any Nico di Angelo, though eventually a secretary offered to look through old records. About an hour later, she called back.

"There was a Francesco di Angelo who served as ambassador from 1933 to 1945. His daughter Maria and grandchildren Bianca and Nico joined him in America in early 1942. Their hotel exploded a week later. Freak lightning strike combined with a gas leak, according to what it says here. Maria, Bianca and Nico were all killed. As soon as the war ended, Francesco resigned out of grief."

"All right, thank you for your time," Amber said, then hung up the phone. She shook her head and turned to Clyde. "This is absurd. This is…this must be some kind of joke. He can't seriously expect us to believe he's an Italian immigrant who died during World War II?"

"Your theory about him being the killer's son is moot," Clyde pointed out. "Baxter is a childless registered sex offender."

"So? Maybe he was keeping the kid under wraps. I mean come on, how else did di Angelo know about Ressel Park?"

"Maybe ghosts know things that living people don't," Clyde suggested. Amber scoffed, but Clyde continued. "He can pass for a corpse when he's unconscious, he can apparently vanish into thin air, and let's not forget what Cavall said about the bodies digging themselves up. I say we've just had ourselves a real live ghost story."

Amber rolled her eyes. "Believe what you like. I'm gonna figure out who this kid _really_ is, mark my words."

* * *

Amber searched and searched, but Nico di Angelo (or whatever his name was) appeared to have vanished off the face of the earth. His name turned up no helpful hits. Facial recognition software couldn't track him down. One day, Amber eventually caved and asked the Italian secretary if there were any photos of the di Angelos. The secretary sent Amber a rather grainy photo of a woman and two children, elementary or early middle school age by the looks of them. The boy did bear an uncanny resemblance to Nico. Amber tried to convince herself it was a coincidence.

* * *

Two years after Richard Baxter was convicted of the Kite-String Killings, Amber took a vacation to New York City. Her jaw dropped in shock when she entered a café and saw the elusive Nico di Angelo sitting at a table with a tan, blond-haired boy.

"Hey, lady, if you're not going to order then could you get your ass out of the way?" a man complained behind Amber. She recovered her senses and walked over to the table with the two boys.

"Excuse me, are you Nico di Angelo?"

Instantly, both boys looked guarded. "Yes," Nico said warily. "Who are you?"

"You don't remember me?" Amber said, surprised. Nico shook his head. "Detective Amber Bennett. You gave us the tip that led to the arrest of the Kite-String Killer."

Nico's eyes widened. "Ohh. I remember now. So, you actually caught him?"

"Whoa, time out," the other boy interjected. "You helped catch a serial killer? When was this?"

"About two years ago," Nico replied. "Right before, uh…" He glanced at Amber. "Right before my dad's assistant went missing."

Amber raised an eyebrow. "You didn't know Baxter was caught? It was headline news."

Nico smiled grimly. "I was busy. Th—Dad's assistant's disappearance caused a _lot_ of chaos. I'd completely forgotten about that serial killer."

Amber folded her arms. "You never did tell me who you really are. Or how you knew so much about the killings."

Nico grimaced. "The less you know about me and my life, the safer you'll be. Trust me, your serial killer was child's play compared to…" He swallowed and shuddered. His friend reached out to give him a comforting pat on the shoulder.

"Compared to what?" Amber demanded.

"With all due respect, Detective, you really don't want to know," the friend replied, a protective glint in his eyes.

"If you don't give me answers, I could call social services," Amber threatened. "Your father's home doesn't sound like the most stable environment."

For some reason, both Nico and his friend seemed to find this funny. "Stable environment," Nico gasped between laughs. "You know, now that the Doors are closed, it's probably the most stable environment I know of. Though I'm pretty sure Dad would prefer I don't…ah, _live_ there for several more decades."

"You are _definitely_ not 'living there' for several decades," the friend concurred. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

Amber frowned, not quite following their conversation. "Your father kicked you out?"

"No, no, we actually get along surprisingly well now. But I'm living elsewhere for the moment. And Will here is making sure I don't pass out in any more parks, or…" Nico's eyes widened. "Wait a minute, was I in a _body bag?!_"

"Ah…yes," Amber confirmed, still lost. "You were. Gave us all a scare when the bag was empty. How _did_ you disappear?"

"γιος ενός τόξου," Nico muttered.

"Language," Will scolded. "And how did you end up _in_ a body bag in the first place? Wait, don't answer that, I can guess."

"At least I didn't start fading out of existence that time," Nico muttered. He straightened and looked at Amber again. "Hello. My name is Nico di Angelo. I was born in Venice in 1932 to Maria di Angelo and Hades. Yes, the Greek god of the Underworld, _that_ Hades. After my mother was murdered, my father pulled my sister and me out of time for nearly seventy years, hence me being a teenager in the 21st century. I can commune with the dead, animate dead bodies and transport myself using shadows. And you probably think I'm completely off my rocker now, so I'll just take my boyfriend and go. Good-bye, and please don't track me down to ask any more questions."

Nico grabbed Will's hand and hurriedly exited the café. Amber did not follow, too gobsmacked by his story. It was complete lunacy, obviously. And yet…she had a feeling those were the only answers she was ever going to get.


End file.
